Hard Liquor and Love Lines
by SweetandUnknown
Summary: "It became a habit, and you liked the way she would turn and smile when you walked out on the porch. Sometimes you'd notice her blush and look away, and you think it's the vodka in your system that's making your head swim." – one-shot, sequel to Wine Coolers and Beautiful Disasters, Faberry, Rachel's POV, post-high school and college!faberry


Summary: "It became a habit, and you liked the way she would turn and smile when you walked out on the porch. Sometimes you'd notice her blush and look away, and you think it's the vodka in your system that's making your head swim." – one-shot, sequel to _Wine Coolers and Beautiful Disasters_, Faberry, Rachel's POV, post-high school and college!faberry

Rated: T

A/N: A lot of people asked for a sequel to _Wine Coolers and Beautiful Disasters_, so I considered working it into _Why the Wind Goes_ canon, but it's a little too late in the game to fit it in there. So I wrote this as a separate one-shot instead. Reviews are great, and say hi to me on Tumblr if you've got the time. I like faberry folks!

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**Hard Liquor and Love Lines**

* * *

1.

You spend most summer nights with Quinn. You would see Quinn slip outside to get away from the party, and you would follow soon after. It became a habit, and you liked the way she would turn and smile at you when you walked out on the porch. Sometimes you'd notice her blush and look away, and you think it's the vodka in your system that makes your head swim.

You haven't gotten nearly as drunk as the first party of the summer, but she still teases you and tells you you're cute when you're drunk. She compliments you often, and the one time you joked that she's making up for lost time, her smile faltered. You apologized, but she said, "Maybe. I hope you know I was lying back then. You just scared me. You kind of still do." You made some joke, but she shook her head and added, "You have no idea how amazing you are."

Finn left for basic training in July. That night, when you couldn't sleep, you ended up at Quinn's house. She didn't let you apologize for showing up unannounced, just walked beside you down any sidewalk. You didn't say anything for a while, but eventually she stopped walking and took your hand. When you looked at her and saw sympathy in her eyes, you started crying. She let your tears soak her shirt, and she wrapped her arms around you and ran her hand up and down your back until your breathing returned to normal. When you were ready to keep walking, she took your hand again and gave you a small smile, only whispering, "C'mon," before leading you to the nearby park to sit on the swings.

Almost every night you go for that same walk, but there aren't any more tears. You laugh, and you've learned that your heart skips a beat when you make Quinn smile, that your heart swells when you make her laugh. You've also learned that Quinn's hands have a few callouses on her palms, but the rest of her hands are soft. You've found many different reasons to hold her hand as often as possible, and you feel guilty that – if you've had enough vodka – you look for reasons to know the softness of her lips.

So tonight, perhaps you've had too much vodka.

You're both leaned against the railings, sitting on the porch steps across from each other. She's laughing, and you're doing the best pout you can muster.

"Why not?"

"Rachel, we went over this."

"Was it because I asked again? Should I have just gone for it?"

Quinn doesn't answer, just sighs with a grin. She's in a pretty blue sundress and a light, cream cardigan. Her sun-kissed skin looks golden, and you had compared her to a goddess before, "Can I kiss you?" slipped out.

"Rachel, you leave the day after tomorrow," Quinn says, more so to the night than to you. Her eyes won't meet yours, and you miss the green and the gold of them. You find yourself frequently searching for those same colors in nature when she's not in front of you. You can close your eyes at night and see them, and you're afraid that once you move that the city lights will wash it all out.

"This is _my_ party."

"It's your _Going Away _party."

"Exactly."

"Exactly."

You stomp your foot, and because you're still sitting, you know it looks silly. Quinn chuckles, so you blow out a frustrated breath, ruffling your bangs. You scoot your butt down to the next step and move over to her side, leaning your head against her arm. She quickly wraps it around you, and you sigh into her side, memorizing the trail her fingers graze along your shoulder.

"I'm going to miss you," Quinn says. It almost sounds like a confession, so you take her hand and kiss each callous on her palm.

"I'm going to miss you, too."

* * *

2.

"Woah there," she says with a chuckle, wrapping her arms around your waist.

"I'm fine," you say, but your tongue is heavy so the words fall from your mouth sloppily.

She laughs her husky laugh, walking you up the stairs of your apartment building.

"Did you have fun, Quinn?" you ask, turning to look at the blonde as she takes the keys from your hand and opens your apartment door.

"Yes."

"That last shot was a bad idea," you groan, closing your eyes because your apartment won't stop spinning around you.

"Probably."

"Bed."

"No, water."

"I'm tired."

"You're drunk."

"That, I am," you agree with a lazy nod.

She takes your hand and leads you to the kitchen, pulling out a chair for you to sit. Your sweater feels fuzzy against your face, and you snuggle into your arms on the table. You hear her pour some water from the Britta into a cup, and then her footsteps. She rubs her hand along your back to get your attention.

You give her a crooked grin when you look at her sitting beside you, obviously amused by your state.

"I'm so glad you're here," you tell her as she hands you the glass of water.

"Drink."

You do so, and you realize your mouth was parched. After gulping down half the glass, Quinn adds, "And I'm glad I'm here, too."

After two more glasses of water, you and Quinn stumble into your bedroom, giggling along the way while shushing each other to not wake Kurt or Santana.

Once in bed, you roll over onto your side to look at Quinn. Her eyes are closed, but you can tell she's still awake when she lets out a small, content sigh. You lick your lips when you look at hers, and before you can ask, you lean in toward her.

"What're you doing?" It's not panicked, just slow and curious. Her eyes are still closed, but her lips are curved up slightly.

"Nothing," you whisper. Before you can change your mind, you lean in and kiss her cheek, grazing your lips near the corner of her mouth.

When you pull away, her eyes open slowly. You hold our breath until she smiles at you. She rolls her eyes playfully, says, "C'mere," and takes your hand, rolling over so your arm is wrapped around her.

"I've never been big spoon before," you whisper into her hair.

"You're doing great."

"Of course. I take pride in all my work."

"Work, huh?"

"Shhh, go to sleep Quinn."

You feel her shake against you as she laughs, "Goodnight, Rach."

You fall asleep, praying that she can't feel your heart beating against her spine.

* * *

3.

She keeps laughing as you both slip and slide your way along the sidewalk. You're walking back to Quinn's dorm, huddled together and trying to avoid slipping on ice. It's starting to snow, and you're doing your best to focus on walking and not the way Quinn smiles at the sky and tries to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

"Oh, Rachel," she says with a sigh, her breath in the New England winter air escaping her like summer clouds.

"Oh, Quinn," you mimic.

Her hand is entwined with yours in your coat pocket, and she's tracing the lines of your palm with her fingertips. You wonder if she knows she's writing her way into your lifeline, and you know that your love line has already bent for her. You know now – why you feel warm in the winter with her beside you, why you reach for her and hold her hands as often as possible, why you can still see her eyes whenever you close yours – you were always meant to be so much closer.

You're crossing through a small park when Quinn lets go of your hand to run and slide across a large patch of ice.

"Oh god," you say as you watch her gracefully spin. If you didn't love seeing her so happy, you'd be envious of the grace she possesses when drunk.

"Your turn!"

"No, I'll just walk," you say, carefully stepping onto the ice.

"Don't be scared."

"I don't like falling."

"Well, no one does, really," Quinn says, watching you shuffle your way.

You're almost across when you feel your right foot slip, and you know you look ridiculous as you try to right yourself. Quinn's arm is around your waist, but not even a drunk-and-graceful Quinn can stop you from falling on your back as she gets dragged down with you.

"Oh no! Am I crushing you? Are you okay?" Quinn says, scrambling off of you, "Did you hit your head?"

"No. I'm okay," you say, breathing air into your lungs. "You are definitely not big enough to crush me." She helps you stand, and you both cautiously walk to the grass.

"We're safe," you say, "Are you okay?"

Quinn nods, "You kind of broke my fall."

You're about to start walking again, but Quinn doesn't move.

"I was scared."

"What? I'm fine."

Quinn shakes her head, "No, this summer."

"Of what? Yale?"

"No, of you. Of kissing you."

You exhale, and you see your breath mix with hers in the cold air. You can't tell if she's shivering or trembling, so you take her hands and put them in your coat pockets again.

"You make me so incredibly happy, and kissing you would make me happy. But not knowing if I could ever kiss you again would kill me. But I need to. Just once."

"Quinn-"

"So I'm ready."

You gulp, and your mouth hangs open as you look at her, a streetlight halo and snowflakes surrounding her. "Wait, what?"

"I'll kiss you. Let's do it," Quinn says, a silly look of exaggerated determination on her face.

"Quinn, you've been drinking and-"

"I was nervous, and Santana told me tequila does the trick, and it does."

You entwine your fingers with hers, "I'm not going to kiss you."

"Is it because you're sober?"

"I'm not, but sober enough."

Quinn's eyes won't meet yours, and you let one of her hands fall away. You're happy that her other hand stays in place, and once you both start walking again, you trace your name into her palm.

* * *

4.

The next morning you wake up with your arms still wrapped around Quinn. She insisted you share her tiny bed even though her roommate is away, and you complied once you saw her in her snowflake boxer shorts and baggy Yale t-shirt. Eventually Quinn stirs and groans. You get her some water and ibuprofen before going to shower. Quinn doesn't say anything before heading to shower after you return, leaving you to change.

"So… did you want to talk about last night?" you ask over coffee and breakfast at the nearby café.

"Definitely not," Quinn says, sipping her coffee.

You leave it at that, and the day proceeds like normal. You both find reasons to hold hands and touch, but you notice the way Quinn hesitates each time. When she drops you off at the train station, you hug goodbye and give her a gentle kiss on the cheek. She grins and you tell her to visit soon.

* * *

5.

"Kurt, I swear to god, I am going to glue your keys to your hands," you grumble as you walk to the door. Kurt left for his internship at Vogue that morning because "Fashion doesn't stop for snow," but it was enough for NYADA to cancel classes. You were intent on sleeping in after your return from New Haven, but Kurt always lock himself out at inconvenient times.

You open the door to see Quinn in a snow-covered hat and winter coat and boots, standing in a puddle of all the melting snow she carried in.

"Quinn, what are you doing here?"

"I uh, came to talk."

"We have phones," you say with a laugh, pulling her into your apartment. "Miss me that much already?" you joke as she slips off her boots and coat. You hang her things, and when you turn to face her you smile at her flushed cheeks.

She doesn't smile back, so your own falls. "Is everything okay?"

She nods, but then quickly shakes her head.

"Is this about the other night because-"

She takes a deep breath. "I lied, I didn't come here to talk."

You don't get the chance to ask what she means when she closes the distance between the two of you and leans down to capture your lips with hers. Her lips are soft, but still cool from being outside. They quickly warm as you press yours firmly against hers. Your hands find her hair and hers rest on your hips, pressing your bodies together. You part your lips to breathe, which Quinn takes advantage of skim her tongue along your bottom lip. Your tongues meet, and you decide that you could spend the rest of winter kissing her to keep warm. She tastes like tea and honey, which is perfectly Quinn, making you smile into your kiss. It's everything you've wanted since you drank too many wine coolers at Noah's party.

An airy laugh escapes you, and Quinn gently pulls away to look at you.

"What?"

"It's just funny," she quirks an eyebrow at you, "Who would've thought a few years ago that I'd be in my New York apartment kissing Quinn Fabray?"

She smiles. "You can be quite persuasive."

"I always get what I want."

Quinn rolls her eyes, playfully stepping away from you. You grab her hands and pull her back. She looks down at you, unable to stop herself from grinning.

"Can I kiss you again?" she says quietly.

"Why are you even asking?"

"Because consent is important."

You laugh, "It is."

"So can I?"

You nod, and her lips meet yours briefly. Then she lets her lips brush over yours, and whispers, "Can I kiss you tomorrow?"

"You can kiss me whenever you'd like," you reply before standing on your tiptoes to kiss her softly.

"God, finally. Did it take a PowerPoint presentation or what?"

You both separate to see Santana standing by her bedroom door in her pajamas, a giant smirk on her face. You feel your face heat up, but Quinn leans down and kisses your warm cheek.

"No, I just finally got her to stop talking," Quinn jokes.

"You work miracles, Quinn."

"I hate both of you," you comment, crossing your arms.

"No you don't," Quinn and Santana say at the same time as Santana walks off to the bathroom to begin her morning ritual of using up all the hot water in the shower.

You give an exaggerated pout, but it turns into a smile when Quinn gives your bottom lip a peck. You move into your bedroom, lying on top of Quinn, kissing her for all those days you wasted talking as if you didn't know what your mouth could otherwise be doing. Your hands always find each other's when they aren't slipping underneath a shirt or lacing through each other's hair. Between what your mouths whisper between kisses and the way you can easily trace her life and love lines, you know that this is exactly how close you were meant to be.


End file.
